Frighted Out of Fear
by J.L.Finch
Summary: The Seer comes to Falcon every night in his dreams. She gives him a choice: stand up for Albion... or watch it parish under your mother's hand. Falcon's not ready to lead a revolution and he certainly wasn't born to be King. But he can't stand idly by and watch her destroy the only home he's ever known, or the only people who have ever loved him.


She came to him every night in his dreams.

Her voice was calm, like that of a high priestess or an old nan. It was one that tiptoed along the path of soothing. If he squinted, he could almost make out the curves of her dark silhouette through the fog, usually too heavy to see even his own hand in front of his face. Her body was wrapped in cloth, head to toe, always. The only part of her that graced the outside world was her pale, withered lips. She was always there, enticing him with her velvety words, yet never within his reach.

" _The Sparrow will not approve of your coupling."_

"Elise? Why? She's nice," he had replied. "And she's got all that... pretty hair."

" _The queen of Albion will use her sons as she decrees necessary. Your foreign oppressors have many daughters. The seeds of prosperity could be lain as a byproduct of your sacrament."_

The prince almost laughed at the idea, as well as at the innuendo. "You, clearly, do not know my mum," he said with a shake of his head. "She'd never."

" _To marry in the name of Albion was her own fate."_

"Exactly why she wouldn't do that to us." The corner of his mouth tugged into a knowing smirk. Check and mate, as they say! She was scary every other night, but this night… oh, _this_ night she was sorely lacking in thrills.

The Seer was quiet then, and she remained that way for quite a long time. Falcon felt his metaphysical stomach turn. She – she just stood there, watching him, hardly shifting her weight at all! What was she going on about with all this marriage business, anyway?

She always had a point at the end of these things…

" _Perhaps many years ago, when the wound was still fresh. She is old enough now to know that one can survive such a thing. How old is your Sparrow now? How long has she bared the weight of the throne?"_

"She's got to be - I don't know – eighty-something? You don't ask a woman their age, you know, it's rude. Even if it is your mum. It's a nightmare making cards for you lot," All the talk was an easy distraction, keeping him well enough away from the question she'd brought up. His father had been around the same age when he'd passed. The prince knew the look of eighty, with all its wrinkled skin and brittle bones. His mother, the Queen, with her long, flowing hair and still perfectly rosy cheeks looked nothing like it. "I don't ask you your age do I? No. No I don't."

It was a Hero thing, nothing more. He and his brother might age just the same.

" _How old does she appear to you, prince?"_

"...not eighty." he reluctantly gave.

" _What proof have you of the aging heroes?"_

Now that wasn't fair; how did she always know what he was thinking?

"None!" He snapped at the Seer – or the mind reader, more like -, throwing his hands up in exasperation. "She's the only one left, the rest are all... dead... Wait a minute, are you suggesting that my mother-"

" _You must decide, Prince Falcon."_

"You're a batty old broad, you know that? You really are."

" _What will be the fate of your people? Will you stand idly by or will you fight for them?"_

"How am I supposed to know - you're the Seer! See!"

" _I have done for you all I can, Prince. Today, you must become the Hero you were born to be. Or all of Albion is doomed."_

"Believe me, lady. I'm no Hero."

"As you wish, Sire. But seeing as the sun has risen, I would ask that you please peel yourself from your royal chamber and get a move on."

Falcon ran a hand across his face, his mouth feeling suddenly dry in the face of the old man peering down at him. "Sorry, Jasper, just... another nightmare."

"The same?" The butler, having already prepared warm water and towels at Falcon's nightstand, offered him a concerned look. He dipped a washcloth into the water, rung it over the basin, and handed it to Falcon to wash his face with. Falcon took it gratefully. What he wouldn't give to sink into an entire tub and send whatever it was he was feeling down the drain.

"Yes – thank you -, and I know it's not my subconscious," Frankly he'd rather forget it ever happened. "I don't care what anyone says, I would never think up some of the things she tells me. Rubbish is what it is, ridiculous..."

"Perhaps a private audience with your mother would be in order. I hear she'd quite… good… with home remedies for this sort of thing?" Ah yes, his mother the witch. The rumor was not what he needed first thing in the morning; he was already on the verge of throwing up all over the carpet, having no choice but to hold his middle for dear life while he rolled out of bed. And who would have to clean that up? Not him, oh no – Jasper would be assigned the oh so noble task. Then he'd be sorry for prying.

"And lose my head?" Falcon shot back, ignoring the question that hung in the air like wet socks on a clothesline. "What a terrific idea, old man."

"Perhaps a shrink then," Jasper assisted him in dressing, sliding his fancier coat – when had he asked for that? – over his open arms before pacing around to the other side and buttoning it. "In any case, it would seem that she has requested you be at her side today."

"Yeah?" Falcon snorted. "What, precious Logan isn't enough for her?"

Jasper's glare said it all. It was the 'for once in your life, do as you're told' look that had always seemed to haunt Falcon. Do it and let us all catch a break from your mother's wrath.

"What she wants I could not tell you, Sire. But what I do know is that the Queen and Prince Logan have been pressed ever since the protests began this morning and would be very upset if you were to remained absent much longer. If you're so worried about your head, I'd strongly advise you hurry."

The prince thought of woman in his dreams, with all her ominence and mind trickery. He'd always been able to figure out what she wanted. It was simple, at first. Be a good person, make friends, do your best when training with Walter. That could have very well been his subconscious and he was comfortable with that. He rarely told anyone when he had dreams then. But now...

Falcon wasn't stupid like everyone said he was. His mother wanting him in the throne room today was certainly not a coincidence. The Seer wanted him to go out there and publicly question her and he couldn't possibly...

"Thank you, Jasper, I will… see to that." By the look on Jasper's face, he wasn't very convincing. "What? I will! I don't want to interrupt them and their legislating, of course, I'll wait until they have a minute and slip in-"

"The Queen specifically asked that you come to see her the very moment you awoke. I was to make sure of it-"

"And you _have._ You have, Jasper!" Falcon gave the top of the man's gray-haired head a pat, chucking on his boots without bothering to tie them all the way and clunking out his bedroom door. "You worry too much." he turned and added with a wink.


End file.
